


What Should Come to Be

by OneShotWonder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:40:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8068447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneShotWonder/pseuds/OneShotWonder
Summary: When Chuck and Amara held hands in front of him, and she declared that he would be getting some great reward for all his hard work, he didn’t believe her.He had rarely gotten thanks after a hunt, and he never got rewarded for any part of the job. And even though this was the biggest job they had ever faced, it still felt like a job.In truth, even after all these years since he was pulled out of hell, he still didn’t think he deserved to be saved.He still didn’t think he could live up to the name fate had decided for him: The Righteous Man.





	

When Chuck and Amara held hands in front of him, and she declared that he would be getting some great reward for all his hard work, he didn’t believe her.

He had rarely gotten thanks after a hunt, and he never got rewarded for any part of the job. And even though this was the biggest job they had ever faced, it still felt like a job.

In truth, even after all these years since he was pulled out of hell, he still didn’t think he deserved to be saved.

He still didn’t think he could live up to the name fate had decided for him: _The Righteous Man_.

 

Dean watched as the light and dark intermingled with a sense of incredulousness that had become the norm in the last few weeks; really in the last few years; maybe the last few lives. He took a long and deep breath, still aching a bit from where Chuck had pulled all those souls out of him. Just moments ago he had been the most powerful thing in all of creation, now—

 

Then, before he could take another breath he was in the bunker, and he felt the familiar, almost pleasant nausea of an angel teleporting.

 

_For some reason, he thought of being in that plane, as Lucifer was rising all those years ago._

 

He was right inside the front door and just stood for a minute, taking in all the sounds and smells of the bunker. The soft clicks of the old magic-run machines, the old books and stale coffee scent of it. The dark wood coating all the nooks and crannies, doorways and floorboards. The soft lights that held the high pitched hum of something electrical.

He finally started to make his way down the stairs when he heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath. He had heard that sound before, that particular way of breathing coming out of his brother.

Sam wasn’t hurt or scared, he was relieved.

Dean recognized that sound as the quick inhale he heard when Sam held him for the first time after hell, after purgatory, after any long parting.

And when Dean finally saw the group of people in the bunker, he made the same sound. Shock took him for a moment and his mind couldn’t quite process the scene in front of him. He had to take a few minutes of standing completely still and analyzing every minute detail until it hit him.

Standing next to Sam and Castiel in the bunker was Ellen, and Jo, and Bobby, and Charlie.

Dean just stared for a long time, not daring to move in case this was all some kind of short fantasy. He could smell Bobby, the subtle scent of whiskey and gasoline, not unlike the smell of his father. Jo’s hair shone even in the dim light and Ellen’s smirk told him instantly that she was the real thing. Charlie shifted uncomfortably for a minute, then let out a “holy…” so quiet it was almost unheard by the people standing right next to her. Dean realized he was crying, fat tears streaming down his face one after another, but he tried to blink them away quickly so he wouldn’t have to look away from any of them.

“Welcome back.” He laughed the words out in a harsh whisper and dove into Bobby’s embrace, squeezing him so tight they both couldn’t breathe properly.

Sam’s laugh then rung out like bell and they all started to embrace each other and make cooing sounds of pure joy. There were a lot of murmurs of “how?” and “why?” but in truth; they didn’t really care much while they got to feel each other’s warm bodies, alive and close to each other.

 

When the commotion died down a bit and Sam started passing out tissues, since there was not a dry eye in the place, Castiel announced one more surprise and laid his hands down on Sam and Dean’s shoulders.

Suddenly as they could register, they were all standing in a different place. It took Dean a second to process where they were.

 

It was the Roadhouse--just as it had looked when Dean first walked into the bar all those years ago.

After some cries of joy and fumbling cheers between them, Ellen asked who wanted a celebratory drink through teary eyes.

“You boys thirsty? Seems you’ve been on quite the journey and I want to hear all about it.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other and saw the past, a past that didn’t hurt so badly when they had family to stand by them, and smiled real, genuine full smiles of pure happiness.

\--

Over the next three months they all stayed at the Roadhouse, sleeping on cots or sleeping bags on the floor, and just enjoying each other’s company. Needing to be around the people they loved, reveling in the fact that some of those people had come back to them.

About a week after its miraculous re-opening, the Roadhouse started to get a few customers and then more. Sam started to help with bar-tending and Dean learned how to play the guitar. They took a few small jobs during that time, but they found themselves not needing the hunt like they used to.

 

Hunters from all walks of life came to the bar to see the Winchester’s. They wanted to see in the flesh the two brothers who had saved the world countless times. They wanted to ask a million questions or confirm that the rumors were true.

But it wasn’t just seasoned hunters that came into the Roadhouse. Slowly, newbies started to trickle in, to beg Sam and Dean to help them get their revenge, or to pick their brains for any knowledge they might have about a particular case, or a particular kind of monster. At first Dean was vehemently opposed to helping them, turning each and every one away with a speech that he had perfected about revenge not being the answer, about how this life wasn’t something they wanted for themselves or the people around them. But Sam eventually got fed up and proposed they take a few new hunters to the bunker to train them.

He made a grand speech of it; how they had extra rooms, how new hunters would go out into the world with or without the brother's help, how the best thing they could do to protect them would be to train them. The irony of his words that reflected their father’s so long ago was not lost on Sam, and Dean was quick to point it out. However, after a month of debate, Dean finally gave in and they drove back down to Lebanon, Kansas to start the only chapter of the Men of Letters School for Hunters and Scholars.

 

It started small; just a few select trainees that the brothers thought had the potential to be good hunters. But it soon grew and over the next few years they had a steady stream of around 10 trainees with them at all times.

Bobby re-established the phone line system and he was naturally in charge of operations. Available 24/7 to be the go-to man for any questions, alibis, or cover stories any hunter needed in the field. He and Charlie worked together most days, Bobby pouring over ancient dusty books and Charlie typing away at her small laptop. Together, they made a great team, able to get new ID’s out to hunters on the run, able to help them in pretty much any situation a hunter could be stuck in.

Sam and Dean started up daily classes. Most of the time they worked together but Sam liked teaching the trainees about lore, first aid, and hand to hand combat. Dean enjoyed weapon safety, lock picking, and target practice. Sam’s gentle hand was a natural at teaching and Dean’s rough attitude demanded respect and awe. Students came from all over the US and they even got some from South America and Europe. The Winchester’s became living legends and anyone who had lost something or someone to the supernatural would always have a place in the bunker.

Sam soon fell in love with a trainee, a 27 year old who had lost her family to an ancient curse. They got married in the woods behind the bunker only 6 months after knowing each other and they ended up having 4 children together over the next few years: Jonathan, Margaret, Pamela, and Kevin.

They still lived in the bunker and Sam felt they always would. He knew he would never be able to leave his brother’s side again, and this was the place he was most happy in the whole world.

 

Dean started an on-again-off-again relationship with Jo, but neither of them could ever quite bring themselves to commit, so instead of a family, Dean settled into being the best “Uncle Dee” he could be for Sam’s children. Dean actually couldn’t be happier, seeing Sam finally get the life he always wanted. He was, as predicted, a kind and gentle father, and he never pushed his children to do anything other than make the life they wanted. He had his "white picket fence," Winchester style.

 

Between jobs, Bobby started collecting old cars again on the property and slowly built his junkyard once more. He and Dean would show the kids how to fix up cars on the weekends, and Dean loved nothing more than getting his hands dirty under the hood of an old classic.

 

Charlie traveled quite often for Renaissance Faires and LARPing events around the state, and when she was home in the bunker she started LAN parties to play video games with the other trainees.

 

Castiel took a job at the local Gas’n’Sip, spending his days fixing the broken slushee machine and performing small miracles for the patrons that came through on the highway. Just this week he cured a small girl of her asthma, removed the alcohol addiction from an old man, and helped fill the head of a nursing student with knowledge so she would pass her exam next week.

Of course none of these people knew he had helped them, but Cas liked it that way. He reveled in all the human things he got to do every day, and took pleasure in the simplest interactions. The bunker was always filled with light and laughter when he got home from his shift and he truly felt like he found his family.

 

If any of them had extra time, there were always books and magic items to learn about and organize in the bunker. There was enough information in that place to keep a chronicler busy for a lifetime, and none of them minded learning a bit more so they could pass it on to the next generation.

 

Evenings at the bunker were filled with the soft melodic tones of Dean’s guitar, playing renditions of his favorite classic rock songs. While the music played, Cas told stories to the children and the trainees. He was quite good, and once he started he could captivate the whole room with his deep voice. He would tell stories about the history of the earth and man, angelic battles and heavenly conflicts that happened before humans came to be. Sometimes, despite the raised eyebrows of the brothers, he would even tell a tale or two of Sam and Dean Winchester, the boys who he helped save the world.

 

Of course, the boys still carried around the scars of their past lives. At least once a week one of them would wake up screaming and sweating from a nightmare, or have to drink himself to sleep to keep the demons away.  Those nights they would take long walks together, or take the Impala out into the woods and stare at the stars for hours, without saying a word. At first the others would try to help them, but they soon realized that only the brothers could understand what they had been through, and only the brothers could give each other the comfort that he needed. So even though Sam had a family and Dean begged him to leave this all behind, Sam stayed. Not only because of how much Dean needed him on those dark nights, but how much he also needed Dean.

 

No matter how busy they were, almost every weekend they took the time to go to the Roadhouse to visit Ellen and Jo, only about three hours away. Cas would take Sam’s wife and kids in the minivan so Sam and Dean could ride together in the Impala. It was almost a ritual, their banter over who would drive, over what music would be played for the short journey. They used the time to catch up. Sometimes they spoke of the job, the trainees, and what else the school could use. Sometimes they talked about past hunts, spilling a few tears over lost friends or booming with laughter when they thought of past follies. Sometimes they would sit in contented silence, just enjoying each other's presence, their new life, their happiness that neither brother could quite get used to yet. But as they drove, they both knew that they had finally come home, which simply meant sitting inside the old Impala, next to his brother.


End file.
